Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
by AlienEeeter
Summary: an encounter w/ Voldemort leaves Ron, Hermione, and Draco without powers. Four years later they search for a way to have them returned. *DiL (Draco in Leather)
1. one

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures   
  
Beginning Notes (yes there's endnotes too): This idea sprung from two sources. One was a badfic I wrote for my MST, which had the scene of Ron the Janitor. The other was a thread on Diagon Alley's PB, 'what if they were muggles?' So what if they were *turned* into muggles? How would poor Draco deal? Or Ron? This takes place 4 years after Hogwarts, when the characters are 21.   
  
Disclaimer: (I am supposed to be putting these on here, aren't I? *g*) The Harry Potter 'verse and characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them, but I can't promise they will be intact when I am done.   
  
Part 1   
  
Coming back from the shower Ron opened the door to his room and closed it again. "Percy, Neville. You have your own room, use it," he spoke through the door. "And wash my sheets!"   
  
Percy and Neville appeared a moment later. Ron, grateful that they had put on boxers at least, frowned at them. "Sorry," Neville muttered squeakily.   
  
After they had vacated he went in and dug under his bed for a bag holding a little bottle and a syringe. He felt around on his arm for a good vein...   
  
The drug was actually an illegal potion; the street name was simply 'The Drug.' Highly addictive and dangerous in large amounts. But it was the only way Ron could get through his day anymore, and was thankful for his supplier, no matter how greedy he became.   
  
he thought to himself as the potion flowed through his veins.   
  
The two Weasley women were in the kitchen, Molly at the sink, Ginny finishing her breakfast as she read the Daily Prophet. Ginny turned to the 'Possible Untruths' section of the paper. "That bloody Skeeter woman is at it again. This is the fifth 'possible disappearance' she's reported."   
  
"Just trying to scare people. After all that's happened." Mrs. Weasley flipped her dishtowel angrily. "Well, at least that paper finally had the sense to put her stories where they belong.   
  
He went downstairs, grabbed a piece of toast, and walked out the door. "Bye mum. I'm going to work."   
  
The door slammed before Mrs. Weasley could reply. "I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy," she sighed.   
  
"I wish I could help you," Ginny said. "Honestly, I don't know what to make of him. Maybe you should search his room."   
  
Molly Weasley shook her head. "Maybe he'll tell me when he gets home."   
  
Ron got into his beat up Citroen, the early 60's make nearly an extinct species and indistinguishable colour. It clunked and sputtered all the way to the Muggle high school the next town over.   
  
***   
  
Ron made coffee in his office, and picked up his mop, ready for another day.   
  
"Mr. Weasley," a voice said from the doorway of the office. He turned to see one of the students. "There's a clogged toilet in the ground floor girl's bathroom. It's over flowing."   
  
Ron leaned against the mop heavily, running a hand over the thinning spot on the back of his head. "I'm coming."   
  
The halls were flooded with Muggle teenagers, which Ron had to navigate through with a plunger and mop bucket. But he did it with a smile on his face. The Drug had taken effect, giving him a sense of euphoria, and his problems disappeared. His love life was again perfect, he had a great job, he still had his friends, he again had a full head of hair. And he still had his magic.   
  
He shoed the students out of the way as the puddle grew out from under the door. His worn boots splashed across the floor. The water was flowing from the last stall in a dark corner and was, in result, rarely used. He approached it with the plunger.   
  
The clog was a grey mass of some sort. Before he could start, however, it flew up out of the toilet. "Myrtle!" He jumped back in surprise. "Don't do that!"   
  
"Sorry," she sniffed. "I just wanted to visit. Thought I'd have a little fun. I was going to scare one of those little Muggle girls, but I got stuck and had to work myself free."   
  
Ron grinned. "Glad to see you." He started mopping up with no complaints.   
  
"You're high again, aren't you?" She floated around to face him. "I told you to cut it out. You don't want to be dead, like me."   
  
"Ah, but I might as well be," he said loudly. "I mean, what have I got to live for?" He wrung out the mop. "I've got no friends. I have no magic. My girlfriend is a ghost." He said these things merrily, but Myrtle could still hear the tone of madness in his voice brought on by the Drug.   
  
"Rub it in."   
  
"But I'm in a really good mood now, so don't spoil it for me."   
  
"You're also going bald."   
  
"Excuse me, I'm mopping." Myrtle continued to rattle off his shortcomings, including his inability to put out, but the second stage of The Drug had come on, and he was in a dream state where he was back at Hogwarts with Harry and Hermione.   
  
He went through the morning as such, doing but not seeing, speaking but not hearing the words. By lunchtime he had started to come down from the high, and the inevitable state of depression had set in. He sat in his grubby little office next to the boiler room with a corned beef sandwich.   
  
Coming down was the depressing part. He used the most dangerous element of the drugs affects to reminisce about the night that changed him forever. He couldn't remember all of it...he didn't want to. The spell, a powerful spell that took away their magic abilities. To render Harry harmless. To kill...   
  
Harry was dead, and if it hadn't been for Dumbledore, Ron knew he would be too. But even with the final fall of the Dark Lord, there was nothing in the magical world that could bring their powers back. The three of them were squibs, but worse than squibs, because they knew what it had been like.   
  
***   
  
Ron found himself passed out on the couch in his office. Glancing with bleary at the clock, he saw that it was nearly six o' clock. He had been out since noon. The black out periods were getting longer and longer, but at the same time they were blissful. He struggled to get up.   
  
The second shift man entered the office. "Ronnie, man. You gotta' stop doing this before you get fired."   
  
"I know." he moaned, clutching his head.   
  
"What have you been taking, anyway?"   
  
Ron started out the door. "Jim, you don't want to know."   
  
His mother was waiting for him when he got home. "Ron," she said stiffly, "We have to talk."   
  
"Can't this wait till morning?" he asked.   
  
"No." Her face was set solid and unmoving in a grim frown. "Ron, come here."   
  
He trudged over to her. "Yes?"   
  
"Explain." She waved a plastic bag in his face, holding two syringes and a small green bottle. Ron stood silent. "Well."   
  
"You just don't understand."   
  
"Oh, honey, I do. You're not the only one in pain around here. I know what you've gone through, but you cannot drown it all in Drugs. It doesn't work that way."   
  
"Look, mum, if you don't like it, that's just fine. I'll leave. I don't have to stay here."   
  
"Then maybe you should go."   
  
"Fine, I will then." He stomped up the stairs. Ginny, Percy, and Neville were staring at him from their bedrooms, but wisely, they didn't speak, even as tears were running down Ginny's face.   
  
He threw a couple sets of clothing into the bag, and as a last thought, his useless wand.   
  
It wasn't until he had tossed his pack into the passenger seat of the car and had taken off that he realized he had no place to go.   
  
*A/N: I have gotten off on a gloomy start. Sorry about the Percy/Neville at the beginning...Well, *I* thought it was funny. Next chapter includes leather trousers and our favourite blond. 


	2. two

Part 2  
  
The London flat was on the forth floor of a large building with a lift that was broke down. By the time Ron got up the stairs he felt as though he were going to pass out. He rang the bell twice, paused, than rang it again.  
  
"Hold up!" came a voice from somewhere in the middle of the flat. Moments later Ron heard the click of three locks. "You had better have a lot of money on you," the voice said as the door swung open.   
  
Draco looked at Ron with mild disgust. "Oh. It's just you." He clutched his towel tight around his waist and stalked back into the bathroom, his wet hair dripping down his back and on the floor. He emerged a minute later, barefoot and shirtless, in a pair of worn jeans. Ron noticed a large white scar on his left shoulder. "Are you out already? You were just here three days ago. I know you can't afford this."  
  
"I don't need any Drugs. Well, I do, but...Draco, can I crash on your couch for a couple nights...or forever?"  
  
Draco laughed at the insane idea of him actually doing a Weasley a favor. Despite what they had gone through, old grudges still pushed their way into his mind. "What's wrong? Your mum finally kick you out?"  
  
"Sort of." Ron groaned and collapsed on the couch in the middle of the room. "Please?"  
  
"Sure, Weasley." Family grudges weren't that important anymore. "But don't go digging your nose where it doesn't belong. I find out you've been taking free samples, you're out of here."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Okay." He walked over to the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. "Here." He tossed one to Ron, which he caught clumsily. "So, you finally decide to make that jump into the real world."  
  
"The Muggle world, you mean."   
  
Draco waved him away. "Whatever."  
  
"Not so bad, is it?"  
  
Draco grinned wryly. "Sometimes I wish I'd taken Muggle studies."  
  
"Wouldn't of helped much though, would it? Cocaine, heroin, marijuana? They didn't teach that stuff."  
  
"Maybe, but do you know how long it took me to realize that CD's make music? And using my computer? I'm still figuring that one out."  
  
"You've got a computer?"  
  
"Yeah." The doorbell rang. "Hold that thought." Draco got up and answered the door.   
  
It was a man in his early thirties, grizzled and dirty. "Give me as much as you can for this." He shoved a couple of worn notes into Draco's hand.   
  
Draco took the money and left the room, returning a few moments later with a small plastic bag holding s miniscule amount of white powder. The man clawed it out of Draco's hand greedily, and rushed away down the hall.  
  
Ron was staring when Malfoy turned back to him. "That's going to be you some day," he said seriously.   
  
"No it won't."  
  
"You're stupid."  
  
"Hey Malfoy, you're the one dealing this stuff. You're hurting other people. I'm just hurting myself. And that's how I like it."  
  
Draco had only heard one word. "Never, ever use that name," he hissed. "I hear it once more from your lips, and you will regret it like you have regretted nothing else in your entire life."  
  
"Sorry," he muttered. "I forgot."  
  
"You bloody well better not forget again. I have one name." He stressed the word. "One." He turned and marched out of the room, leaving Ron staring at the wall.  
  
Draco slammed his bedroom door and collapsed on his bed. Maybe Ron, almost but never a friend, could forget, but he never would. Draco would remember it all.  
  
It was his father's fault that he had ended up in the shabby muggle flat. Said that he was an important part of the Dark Lord's plan. He hadn't known any better. Had thought of it as a chance to prove he wasn't some useless brat.   
  
Despite the tightened security during their seventh year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had managed to get into the forbidden forest. For two reasons. To kill Harry Potter, and to render Dumbledore powerless against him, forced to watch as Voldemort destroyed the wizarding world.  
  
It was Draco's job to lure Harry into the woods, then get out before he was noticed missing. It worked well enough, except Ron and Hermione followed.   
  
As punishment for the error he was bestowed the same fate as the other three. Their powers were stripped from them, and Draco ran into the woods. Dumbledore appeared right after that, but it was too late for Harry. Draco had watched from the trees as Voldemort performed Avada Kedavra on Harry, the Headmaster arriving as his body dropped to the ground. That was plenty for Draco. He ran after that, and never bothered to know how the Dark Lord was finally defeated.   
  
Feeling betrayed by his own, and neither wizard nor muggle, he forgot his last name and retreated to London, where he began a work dishonest and illegal. Though he lived as a muggle, and most of his customers were such, he still dipped into the lowest parts of wizard culture. He felt that he were as close to rock bottom as he could get.   
  
he thought to himself superiorly, He hauled himself off of the bed and started rummaging around in his closet, pulling out clothing.   
  
***  
  
Ron was watching the television when Draco entered the living room. "I never actually sat down and watched, one of these things," Ron said to him, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "It's pretty neat."  
  
"You're strange." Draco picked up a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. "Half in the muggle world, half in the wizard."  
  
Ron looked over at Draco, staring at his outfit. "I'm strange? You're the one wearing leather trousers."  
  
"I'm hitting the bar."  
  
"I could get laggered up." He clearly wanted to go.  
  
Draco looked pained. "I'm going to regret this decision very soon. Yes, you can come."  
  
"Great. We can take my car."  
  
They walked through the parking deck below the building, stopping in front of Ron's car. Draco took one look at it. "We'll take my car."  
  
The Neon Room wasn't very big and fairly crowded. When Draco and Ron entered they were immediately hit with the sound of a cat dying. "Bollocks. I forgot it was karaoke night. Ah well." He marched Ron over to a pair of empty bar stools.   
  
One of the bar tenders, a young woman with curly red hair and a generous chest, came over to them. "Hey handsome," she said, leaning over the bar and kissing Draco on the cheek. "You were supposed to come by last night."   
  
He shrugged. "Got distracted." She frowned at him. "Tonight, I promise." He changed the subject. "Deirdre, this is Ron, an old school chum of mine. Sort of. He's bumming on my couch for a couple of weeks."  
  
She smiled in Ron's direction. "So what can I get you boys?"  
  
"Just a beer," Draco said.  
  
"The highest proof you've got," was Ron's reply. Draco stared at him as Deirdre bustled off. "Hey, my mum took my Drugs. Gotta use some other method to pass out."  
  
"If you do, I'll dump you in an alley way. I'm not hauling your carcass back with me."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Fair enough."  
  
"That stuff is already turning your brain, you know that? I mean, by all accounts you should have tried to kill me by now."  
  
Ron looked at Draco seriously. "Desperate times." He shrugged. "I could say the same of you."  
  
Draco smiled as Deirdre returned with their drinks. He lifted his beer bottle in a mock toast. "Desperate measures." Ron didn't return the smile.   
  
"What are you boys being so serious about?" Deirdre teased, leaning on the bar.   
  
"The past, luv," Draco replied, raising his bottle towards her. "To desperation."  
  
"You're a sad lot," she replied.   
  
Ron nodded as he picked up his shot glass, which held a dark, slightly green tinted liquid. "You have no idea." He tilted back his head and downed it in one swallow. Immediately he began coughing. "What the hell did you just give me?" he exclaimed hoarsely.  
  
Deirdre laughed. "You'll have to ask Draco. It's of his invention. Made one for me one night, and I knew I had to serve it. He won't share the recipe. Just wants to squeeze more money out of my sister and I. It's called the Death Potion."  
  
Ron looked at Draco, alarmed. "Relax," Draco hissed, leaning towards him. "It's just a butter beer base with a little--a lot--of kick. Muggles love the stuff." Ron gaped. "It's fine, really."  
  
"Gimme another," Ron said after consideration. Deirdre laughed, and moved to the other side of the bar. "You could get thrown into Azkaban for this. The Misuse of Magic Office would have your head on a silver platter."  
  
"I'm hardly noticeable. It's not as though I use actual magic...."  
  
Ron looked down at his feet. "Right."  
  
Deirdre came back with a second round, and by the third, Ron was on the stage singing as off-pitched as any of the other patrons. "This-this next song," he slurred into the microphone, "is for Myrtle, the only person who ever gives a fuck about me." He only knew the chorus. "I don't want, anybody else. When I think about you I touch myself...."  
  
Draco and Deirdre watched with amusement. "Your friend is completely rat-arsed!"  
  
"I picked out the song for him," Draco bragged.  
  
"Who's Myrtle?"  
  
"Who knows. I don't think I want to."  
  
"You should take him home before he does something even more stupid. My shift ends in an hour." She touched his arm. "I'll be by in a bit."  
  
"Fine," Draco agreed. "Put his drinks on my tab. I doubt the poor bastard's got two pounds to rub together." He kissed her briefly, then went off to collect Ron.   
  
**************  
  
*A/N 2: heehee. drugdealer!Draco. Don't 'cha love it? Next chapter, Draco plays with his chemistry set, and we venture into the depths of Knockturn Alley. 


	3. three

Part 3   
  
In the early hours of the morning Ron woke up in a cold sweat, shaking from head to foot. It took him several moments to realize where he was. He even figured out why he was there. But how he got there was a bit of a mystery. Not that he cared. At that moment his stomach was being twisted into a knot.   
  
He stumbled his way to the bathroom, emptying his stomach contents into the toilet. He fell back, collapsing on the floor, leaning his face against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Myrtle came up through the bathtub drain. "Here you are. I've been looking all over-" her voice softened when she saw him. She sat down next to him, and through he couldn't feel her touch, put a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes I think you're worse off than me."   
  
She watched sadly as he struggled to his feet, not even noticing her in his delirium as he walked right through her. Ron stumbled into Draco's bedroom, pale and in a cold sweat. There were two figures asleep in the bed. He grabbed Draco's shoulder roughly. "Wake up," he hissed.   
  
"Ow," Draco muttered, wrenching himself free. "Shut up you git. Get the hell out of here."   
  
Ron ignored him. "I need some. Now."   
  
"Huh? Oh. Piss off."   
  
"If I do not get some Drugs right now, I swear I will rip your head off with my bare hands."   
  
"Fine, fine. Just get out of here. If you wake her up, she will kill us both." He shooed Ron out of the room. A moment later he joined Ron in the hall, wearing a pair of green sweat pants. "C'mon," he said. Next to the bathroom was a door locked with a combination padlock. He twisted the dial quickly, and let Ron in.   
  
Ron looked around. The room was a good one hundred degrees, caused by the large blue fire--uncontained but burning nothing--in the corner, over which was a good-sized cauldron. A long worktable was covered in different colored liquids and supplies: Bunsen burners, beakers, and scales. Cabinets and shelves lined the other wall, which were full of more bottles and jars and little boxes. "What the hell--never mind. Drugs. Now."   
  
Draco searched a cabinet and brought out the green bottle. "Here." He pulled it away as Ron grabbed for it. "Money?"   
  
"I've got five galleons in my bag. Now give it!"   
  
"I don't accept wizard money. The exchange rate is awful right now." He saw the mad look in Ron's eyes. "Fine." He handed over the bottle and tossed Ron a syringe from a drawer. "Knock yourself out."   
  
Ron fumbled with the bottle and the syringe, but as soon as it was flowing through his veins he begain to relax. Draco cleared him out, locked the door, and went back to bed.   
  
"What was that all about?" Deirdre mumbled, half asleep as she curled an arm around him.   
  
Draco stared at the ceiling. "Nothing."   
  
***   
  
It was afternoon before Ron managed to pull himself up off the couch. He stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself, then jumped into the shower, where Myrtle appeared again while he was borrowing Draco's shampoo. He jumped in surprise when he opened his eyes and she was in front of him, the water running through her while she didn't even flinch. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"I just came to see how you were doing after last night," she said. "You were pretty out of it."   
  
"You were here last night?"   
  
"See what I mean?"   
  
"I'm sorry, Myrtle." He leaned against the shower door.   
  
"You should be sorry," she snapped. "I think I liked you better back when you were pretending to like me, when you three used my bathroom to-"   
  
"Stop right there," he said, putting a hand up. "I don't want to hear about any of that. Ancient history."   
  
"Sorry. Honestly." She put her ghostly arms around Ron's neck. "It's no big deal when you're girl friend is dead, but when someone gets on your case about Potter you just-get back here! I wasn't finished talking to you." Ron had slammed the shower door open and stepped out.   
  
"I'm not talking to you, Myrtle." He toweled off and slipped on jeans and a t-shirt. "You know," he said as he was dressing, "maybe we should consider breaking up."   
  
"Fine! Maybe we will!" She left in a huff, sliding up the sink faucet.   
  
Ron marched down the hall to find Draco's workroom open. Muggle rock music poured from the boom box in the corner. The blond was sitting at the bench wearing goggles and dragon hide gloves up to his elbows. "Don't say a word," Draco said when he entered. "Wait just a sec." He held a vial of green liquid in one hand, and a dropper of black liquid in the other. One, two drops of the black into the green. There was a puff of purple smoke with each drop. "Okay. Talk."   
  
"What are you doing in here?"   
  
"At the moment I'm making Death Potion. This stuff is dangerous before the reaction."   
  
"You're nuts. Making potions without magic?"   
  
"As long as you know what you're doing." He pulled off the gloves and goggles. "I wasn't Snape's favourite student for nothing, you know. Besides, I already learned that lesson." He pulled down the neck of his t-shirt, showing Ron the scar he had noticed before. "A batch blew up on me. Got lucky that time." Draco got up and stirred the cauldron.   
  
Ron peered over the side. The contents was bubbling and emerald green. "What's in that? It's not--"   
  
"Yeah, it's the Drug. It's not done. Has to boil for a good forty-eight hours. See the colour? Not potent enough. Once it reaches a deep forest green. That's the stuff I've been giving you."   
  
"When is this batch done?"   
  
"Tonight. No you can't have any," he said before Ron could speak. "But if you're a good boy, I'll let you lick the spoon." Ron scowled. "It ships out Monday afternoon. Or rather, I haul it to Knockturn Alley."   
  
"You're insane."   
  
"And you really need to consider your drug of choice. One word. Rogaine."   
  
"Asshole."   
  
Draco turned away. "Get out of here. I have work. You think drug dealing is an easy profession? This needs done by tonight, and I'll be spending all day tomorrow bottling the Drugs."   
  
Ron spent the rest of the weekend watching television. Monty Python was funnier when he was high.   
  
***   
  
Deirdre had spent the night again on Sunday, so by the time Draco was awake, it was nearly noon. The pair had entered the living room to find Ron either asleep or passed out on the couch. "I think your friend has some problems," Deirdre said as they let him lay, going into the kitchen.   
  
"You don't know the half of it." Draco took some milk and eggs out of the refrigerator. "French toast?" She nodded. He set to making breakfast. "Started back when we were in school. His best friend was killed." His voice took on a pained tone as he spoke. "You could say it was a little my fault."   
  
"What happened?"   
  
"Rather not say--can't say--I'm not sure. It wasn't fun. So I feel I have a sort of obligation to him. It's a good thing you didn't know me a few years ago. You would have thought me to be a real bastard."   
  
She smiled. "I still do." He handed her a plate. "But you can cook, so all is forgiven."   
  
She had just left when Ron managed to pull himself awake. When he glanced at the clock he shot up off the couch. "Bugger!" He rushed to the telephone. "Hi, Jane? I'm running a little late...don't bother coming in?...what?! Okay. Yeah. Thanks." Ron leaned against the wall. "It can't get worse. It really can't."   
  
He made his way to the workshop, where Draco was putting liter-sized bottles into lined cases. "I just got fired," he said, monotone.   
  
"It was bound to happen," Draco remarked, speaking around the cigarette in his mouth. "Here, give me a hand with these." He closed the last case. There were four of them, each holding four bottles. The two carried them down to his car, putting them in the boot.   
  
Draco got in the car. "See you tonight. Clean up the flat a little while I'm gone. You're an absolute pig."   
  
Ron stood in the parking deck as Draco started the car. Tried to. The engine sputtered a few times before refusing to emit any more noise, though it was kindly enough to fill the parking deck with smoke. Draco opened up the door. "I need that banger of yours."   
  
***   
  
Ron was standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron for the first time since his last trip for school supplies. "Don't see why you couldn't trust me with your car. Even if I did crash it, you could use the insurance money." Draco was unloading and handed Ron a second case. "Oh well. Not as many trips."   
  
They entered the inn, where Tom was wiping down the bar. "Hullo, Tom," Draco said cheerily.   
  
Tom looked up. "Hey. How's the Muggle Artifact business?"   
  
"Booming." Ron glanced at Draco. "Interested in a fake Rolex?" Tom laughed, though he wasn't quite sure what a Rolex was. "I've got a big shipment that needs to go through. Mind opening the gate for us?" Tom obliged, and within minutes Ron found himself completely immersed in the wizard world once again.   
  
"So you're a 'muggle artifacts' salesman?" Ron teased as they made their way through Diagon Alley.   
  
Draco grinned. "Only to the good people of Diagon Alley. Poor ashamed rich boy, thrown out of the family because of a handicap, now making a living as good as he can. As far as a cover story goes, it ain't half bad. Besides, anything to make my father look worse."   
  
"You're father's been in Azkaban for almost four years now. When people do think of him, they couldn't think any worse."   
  
"I could go back. My mother would take me. I've got a million galleons waiting for me. But low class muggle drug dealer is better off than a rich wizard cripple."   
  
"You've developed a sense of pride."   
  
"And you've lost every shred that you've ever had." Ron couldn't argue.   
  
They had made their way to Knockturn Alley. Ron had been there once before, mucking around with Harry right before their last year at Hogwarts. They'd been freaked out after half an hour and ran back to Diagon to meet Hermione and Ginny at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, like they had been supposed to.   
  
Draco's meeting was in the back room of a run down bar called The Smoking Dragon. "Okay," Draco said as they set the cases down. "Clear out. I'll meet you in front of Gringotts in two hours."   
  
"No way."   
  
"Now, Weasley. You shouldn't go nosing about where you don't belong, and you certainly don't belong here."   
  
"But--"   
  
"Big whop-de-do. You got to do grunt work. Good for you. My customers don't want you skulking about. They get suspicious enough when the waitress serves them their drinks. They'll pretend we're not even here. So sod off before I kick you out."   
  
"Okay, okay. I'm going. I'll wait in the car." Ron walked off in a huff.   
  
He made his way back to Diagon Alley quickly. He wasn't any more comfortable in Knockturn than he had been years before. He made his way down the road. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes #1 was located next to the Owl Emporium. (#2 was located in Hogsmede, with one twin at each.) He only had to consider a minute before entering the store.   
  
Fred was with a customer, demonstrating a fake wand to an eleven year old. Ron got close enough to hear what he was telling the child. "See, you plant one of these in old Ollivander's wand shop over there. I promise you will not be disappointed."   
  
He didn't notice Ron until the boy had paid for the wand and left. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded immediately. "Mum's been worried sick."   
  
"Tell her I'm fine. Tell her I'm staying with a friend."   
  
"You could just go home. You know she didn't mean it."   
  
"Well, I did. Look, my life is pretty screwed up right now."   
  
Fred folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going to argue."   
  
"I'm working out some issues. Look. I just wanted to buy a couple Canary Creams."   
  
His older brother smiled. "A classic. More than two million sold." He took a bag out from under the counter. "How many?"   
  
"Two or three," Ron smiled. "I promise I'll be fine. Tell Mum for me, okay?"   
  
"You could tell her yourself."   
  
Ron took the bag and headed towards the door. "But you've always been so much better at lying to her than I have."   
  
He trudged back into Muggle London fairly quickly after that. He didn't want to hang around, just get to that tiny green bottle hidden in the glove compartment.   
  
***   
  
As Draco approached the car he already knew what had happened. "Now is definitely not the time, you idiot," he mumbled to himself. He opened up the driver's side door and shoved Ron's unconscious form to the other side of the seat, ignoring the yellow feathers all over the car.   
  
He just sat, staring at the piece of parchment he had clutched in his hand.   
  
*A/N 3: In the next chapter Draco faces his past, and Ron starts coming to terms with his inner demons, er, family. Yeah. 


	4. four

Part 4   
  
Draco left Ron in the front seat of his car and trudged up the stairs to his place. The letter was still tight in his fist. He had already memorized it.   
  
"I have learned of the tragic circumstances in which your magic was taken from you, and there is but one person in all of the world who can help you, and you do not want that help, because the price is bound to be painful. She goes by the name of Fenella. Never the less, if you wish for the information that can lead you to your savior or your death, you can find it through the mouth of Lucius Malfoy."   
  
His father's name rang clear in his head, over and over again, like bells. He tried to drown it out, but to no avail.   
  
The author of the note was unknown, at least, Flint didn't share the information. Delivered the message, paid him, and off with the merchandise to sell to the wizarding world at inflated prices.   
  
Draco left the note on the coffee table and stepped into the bathroom, meaning to drown his doubts and fears under the shower spray. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and stared in the mirror at his reflection-the tiny scars on his hands and arms from acidic potions that had still managed to burn through his gloves, the large one on his shoulder from a cauldron blowing up on him. He thanked his stars again that it had missed his face.   
  
He wasn't unhappy with himself. What he was, it was nothing compared to his years as Lucius Malfoy's son. Draco Malfoy had nothing, not even friends. Every one was too afraid of him, or hated him. But as just Draco he had Deirdre and a few friends. He took pride in being able to support himself. He had a life.   
  
He finished undressing and opened the shower door.   
  
Myrtle looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Ahh!" Draco jumped back, reaching for a towel to cover himself.   
  
He fumbled with the towel, nearly dropping it on the floor as he wrapped it around his waist. "Don't bother," Myrtle said gloomily. "It's not like I've never seen it before."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"In the Prefect's bathroom, at Hogwarts."   
  
Draco picked up his trousers and put them on under the towel. "You're Moaning Myrtle, aren't you?"   
  
She almost smiled. "Good to know someone remembers me."   
  
"Why are you in my shower?"   
  
"I was waiting for Ron," she sniffed. "I wanted to make him apologize for breaking up with me." Draco started laughing. "What?" she asked, irked.   
  
"You're-you're Weasley's girl friend?" He laughed harder. "And I thought I was pitiful, dating a muggle. This is great. Thank you. You've made me feel a lot better."   
  
"I've made you feel better..." She crossed her arms. "I see how it is. I don't have to put up with this. I'm leaving." She swept herself down the drain.   
  
Though amused, Draco did not enjoy his shower, weary that the ghost would return up the drain or through the showerhead.   
  
Ron was in the living room cradling his head in his arms and moaning. "Something wrong, Weasley?" Draco asked somewhat nastily.   
  
"I feel like I've been run over by a truck...took too much. It got very bad very quickly."   
  
"Well, poor ickle baby. Did you read this?" He picked up the parchment and tossed it into Ron's lap.   
  
"I tried to, but the words ran together. For a moment I thought I had forgotten how to read."   
  
"Let me enlighten you," Draco said harshly. "It says that we can get our powers back. That we can be whole men once again, and stop living like freaks. It also said that my father, the bastard, has the answer. What have you to say about that?"   
  
Ron collapsed on the couch. "Got any aspirin?"   
  
"Whatever." Draco picked up his jacket and walked out the door, leaving Ron to his misery.   
  
***   
  
Draco returned hours later, not drunk, not with Deirdre on his arm. He had simply walked. Walked for three hours before returning. Ron was waiting for him.   
  
"It says we have to talk to your father."   
  
"No bloody kidding."   
  
"Well?"   
  
"Well what?"   
  
"I can get you in to see him."   
  
"How? It's next to impossible to get into Azkaban these days."   
  
"My brother is on the board. Junior member, currently. But it's enough. He can get us clearance."   
  
"You really think your brother's going to help you? Or me, for that matter?"   
  
Ron frowned. "Oh yeah. Well, he might be forgiving."   
  
"You are pitiful. And in denial."   
  
***   
  
"I can't believe I'm standing in front of your house. God, it's worse than I ever imagined."   
  
"Thanks so much," Ron sneered.   
  
"No problem," Draco remarked as Ron opened the door.   
  
They found Ginny in the kitchen, pulling a cake out of the oven. She almost dropped it when she looked up to find the two men in front of her. "Scare me to death, why don't you!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She looked over Ron's shoulder at Draco. "You really have hit rock bottom, haven't you? Spending your time with him, of all people I thought you-well. You are a looser."   
  
Ron sighed, not wanting to argue. "Is Percy here?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Good." He and Draco left the kitchen, heading upstairs.   
  
"I can't say I ever liked your sister much, Weasley."   
  
"I'd have to agree with you there." They knocked on the door of what had once been Fred and George's bedroom, which had been converted into Percy's office.   
  
"Come in." Percy was seated at his desk going over paperwork. He looked up when they entered, taking off his reading glasses. "Ah, my errant brother. Returning, is he? How touching. And he's brought a little friend. Wonderful."   
  
"Look, Percy-"   
  
"Do you know what Mother's been going through these past few days? She was in a perfect panic, thinking you were lying dead in a gutter somewhere, until Fred stopped by last night."   
  
"I-"   
  
"I hope you're happy," Percy continued as Ron looked on sullenly, past Percy and at the bookcase behind him.   
  
He finally decided to simply ignore his brother's comments. "I need a favor, Rather, Draco does."   
  
"And another thing. How dare you bring a Malfoy into this house."   
  
Draco stepped into the argument. "I am not a Malfoy," Draco said firmly. "Not any more."   
  
Percy looked at him warily-his torn jeans, worn boots, and black t-shirt. "Well, you certainly don't look like one. Okay. What do you want?"   
  
"I wish to see Lucius Malfoy. To tell him that I have renounced the Malfoy family name." His fine breeding took it's place in his voice and words, no matter how poor he looked.   
  
'Won't do any good, even if I were to say yes. He's a high security prisoner. Between the lasting effects of the dementors and the spells on him, I doubt he would even realize what was going on."   
  
"I still want to see him."   
  
Percy leaned back in his chair. "Tough."   
  
Ron stepped back in, glancing at Draco. "We've got dirt on you, Percy."   
  
Draco caught on immediately. "And pictures," he grinned evilly.   
  
"You're running for a permanent spot on that board. Imagine how many votes you would loose if they found out that Percy Weasley was a homosexual? Or his brother is a junkie and a squib? Family falling apart while he hides in his office with the respectable Mrs. Longbottom's grandson?"   
  
Percy looked at his brother defiantly. "You wouldn't."   
  
Draco spoke up. "I would."   
  
He sighed. "Okay. If I do this for you-and I don't know why-you have to do one thing for me, Ron. Clean up your act. Personally, I don't care what you do with your life. But Mother does, and you owe it to her."   
  
***   
  
Azkaban was much like it had been before the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, except it had been void of dementors for two years. The prisoners were kept in check by powerful spells, some which were so strong they were reduced to drooling fools.   
  
The guard lead Draco into the empty little room (leaving Ron in the hall to wait), where a man was sitting in a chair.   
  
Lucius Malfoy stared at them with empty eyes. He was thin and dirty. His hair had grown long, hanging limp in matted clumps over the shoulders of tattered robes. "You father, Mr. Malfoy," the guard said formally.   
  
"Leave us," Draco said in a tight voice.   
  
The guard nodded. "I'll be outside the door if there's trouble. But personally, between the dementors and the spells on him, I don't think he's got enough mind to attack anyone." He left, shutting the heavy door behind him.   
  
Draco stood, silent, staring at his father's form. The man that he had been so frightened of in early childhood, hated but obeyed during his teenage years, and pushed away in an attempt to block out his existence as an adult. Now his stood in front of him, pitiful, nothing but an empty shell.   
  
"Hello father." A flash of recognition in the man's eyes, then it was gone. "I'm not here to see you. I don't give a shit about you. It's your fault I'm here in the first place."   
  
"That boy of yours is a terrible seeker, Narcissa. It's a wonder *I* even let him on the team."   
  
Draco stared. "Perfect. Bloody perfect. Well I'll tell you something. I never wanted to be a seeker. I hated being a seeker. I would have made a much better chaser. But no. I had to show up the fabulous Harry Potter-" His voice was cut short.   
  
"Yes, my most gracious master."   
  
Draco knew his father wasn't hearing a word he said. He was lost forever in his own world. It didn't stop him from ranting. "I hate you, you know that? If you were in any other state, I would kill you on the spot. I don't even use your name anymore. I've denounced the Malfoy name. What do you think of that?"   
  
Silence.   
  
"Look, old man. You made my life a living hell. The least you could do is acknowledge that your only son-the last of the Malfoy line-has abandoned the Malfoy family."   
  
Silence.   
  
Draco shook with anger. His father, sitting in the chair, looked up at him. He hit him once, hard, backhanding him in the face. Lucius Malfoy fell from the chair. Draco kicked him in the side. Still no reaction. He didn't even try to get up.   
  
He hauled him up on his feet.   
  
Draco stared at his father's dull eyes. "You're not a person. You don't hear what I say. You have no information that can help me." He stood up and turned away to leave. "There's probably no such person as this Fenella woman," he muttered to himself.   
  
"The prophet Fenella, who foretold the Dark Lord's final downfall."   
  
Draco turned back around. "What?"   
  
His father's voice, no longer misty and distant, was strong. "Once a Death Eater, she went into hiding after the Lord's first defeat. Before her disappearance, she made a prophecy. My Lord destroyed it. All that is known is that it concerned three who once had powers, but are now barren."   
  
Draco stared at his father. "Where can I find her?"   
  
"She fled North. One wizard knows of her location."   
  
"Who?" Silence. "Who, dammit!"   
  
"He's at Hogwarts."   
  
Draco stepped away from his father. "Okay."   
  
***   
  
He slammed the door open. "Well?" Ron asked.   
  
Draco kept his eyes forward. "We have to pay a visit to Severus Snape."   
  
**   
  
A/N 4: So it begins. Finally! Yes, I have a plot! :) Who knew that the fun little slash gag at the beginning would be useful? (I certainly didn't.) Chapter five, enter Hermione (finally), and Sevvie's cameo. 


	5. five

Part five  
  
Draco and Ron were both in Draco's lab, where he was mixing together a new batch of the Drug. "You really think this will work?" Ron asked Draco as he put the cauldron on the magical fire.   
  
"I don't see why not. Cold turkey is stupid and dangerous-more for me than for you. So if you just start with a weaker substance, and slowly work down, you should be clean in a couple of weeks. A month at least."  
  
"Good." He was getting fidgety. "Where did I put that bottle..."  
  
"Focus for a moment please. Hogwarts."  
  
"I don't want to go back..."  
  
"Do we have much choice in the matter?"   
  
Ron shook his head. "We should at least talk to Hermione first."  
  
Draco frowned. "We should. You do it."  
  
"You afraid of her?"  
  
"Yes." Ron laughed. "She hits hard! I experienced it plenty our last two years of school. When she gets her hands on me, there won't be anything left. Rip me apart with her teeth, most likely. And I deserve it too. Possibly worse."  
  
Ron ignored his last comment. "She's at Oxford. Lets go."  
  
***  
  
Ron looked at the paper, then at the door. "Yep, this is it." He knocked on the dorm room door.   
  
A tall blond girl answered. "Do I know you?"  
  
"Um, no," he said. "We're here to see Hermione."  
  
"Hermione Granger?" Draco nodded. The girl laughed. "If you say so. Hey, Hermione." Hermione looked up from the thick book she was reading. "I'd say you had company, but they're male, so that can't be right."  
  
Hermione got up off the bed. "No," she agreed, missing the sarcasm, "that's not right." She came to the door. Draco quickly moved out of sight. Her jaw seemed to drop to the floor. "Ron?!" She all but threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Ron! It's been ages!" She led him in. Draco lingered at the door. "Just abso-bloody-lutely forever."  
  
"It has, hasn't it?" Draco said. Hermione turned, her eyes immediately darkening. She didn't speak a word to him, just walked up, calmly as anything.   
  
She punched him in the face.  
  
He reeled back into the hallway, clutching his face. When he took his hand away there was blood. Hermione's roommate gave a little shriek and rushed to give him a tissue. "Are you nuts! You can't destroy a face like that!"  
  
"No, no, it's okay," he said, accepting the tissues. He came back into the room and sat down in a desk chair as the blond hovered over him. "I deserve worse than that."  
  
"Believe me," Hermione said. "You're going to get it." She was rolling up her sleeves.   
  
Ron stepped in. "Cool it, Hermione."  
  
Now she turned to him. "What?" she asked in disbelief. "Why? Why did you bring him here? You can't possibly be friends with him."  
  
"I'm his dealer," Draco said, holding his head back to stop the blood flow of his nose.   
  
Hermione looked back at him. "What?!" The roommate laughed at the chaos in the room. "Tracy, dear? Could you leave us for a moment?"  
  
"Just when we finally get some action, I have to leave. I see how it is." She picked up a purse from the desk. "Fine, fine, fine. I'm gone."   
  
Hermione glared at Draco as Tracy left. "Hermione," Ron said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We have to talk. Important stuff."  
  
Hermione shook here head. "Me first. Why are you two here together and not killing each other?"  
  
"Very good question," Draco said. "I guess I'm just a nice guy. Weasley's been crashing at my place since he lost his job and got kicked out of his mummy's house."  
  
Hermione turned to Ron. "Because?"  
  
Ron didn't know how to say it, and since Draco had already dropped the bombshell...."She found my stash."  
  
She sighed. "Which brings me to my next question."  
  
"It's a wizard drug. A potion, technically. I've been cutting back. Been clean since," he looked at his watch. "Noon."  
  
Draco laughed, but Hermione looked somber. "Ron, how could you?"  
  
"I was depressed, Draco was there, he had some on him...."  
  
"I should hit him again, shouldn't I?"  
  
"No, wouldn't be wise. Should'a seen what he did to his father. You don't want to tick him off."   
  
Hermione crossed her arms. "No. We wouldn't want that. Well guess what." She turned to Draco angrily. "You don't have anyone to hide behind now. Not your goons, not your daddy. You can pretend all you want. If you want to be a bad ass, go ahead. I know what you really are, Malfoy."  
  
Ron looked over at Draco, who only smiled thinly. "I don't go by that name anymore. Just Draco. You get one warning. You don't get another."  
  
"Well aren't you so high and mighty. *Don't* romanticize your 'tragic past.' Draco."   
  
He winced at her comment. "Okay. That's a hit. A valid hit. I'll accept it, for now. Just watch your tongue, Granger. You'll step over the line one day."  
  
"Big threats from a petty little ferret."   
  
"I'm serious. I'm not the same person I was four years ago. I'm much worse." He sighed, looking at the dried blood on his hands. "Where's your bathroom?"  
  
Hermione jabbed a thumb at a door behind her. He exited, leaving the two old friends. "Ron. What is going on? I hear nothing from you in almost four years. Then you show up at my door with Draco Malfoy."  
  
Ron looked at her, serious. "We know how to get our powers back."  
  
Something dropped in the pit of Hermione's stomach. "That's not funny, Ron," she said quietly.  
  
"We have a lead on a powerful witch, who claims to know how to bring our powers back."  
  
"Dumbledore couldn't even do that."  
  
"You Know Who was afraid of her." Ron filled Hermione in on what they knew from Draco's experience with his father. As he was finishing, Draco returned. It looked like he had stuck his entire head in the sink.  
  
"So are you coming with?" he asked her.  
  
Hermione sat back and closed her eyes. "I don't know. I don't think I want to go through all of that again. I've just re-established myself. I'm back in school, I'll probably be a dentist like my parents in a few more years..." She finished quickly, "And Hogwarts put me years behind so I have to study now." She picked her book back up off the bed.   
  
Ron glanced at Draco helplessly.  
  
"Bull."  
  
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked Draco.   
  
"Bull. You miss it just as much as Ron and I. Every morning you wake up, and even if you're perfectly content with your life, everything going how you want it, you still know that there's something missing. You feel it, don't you?"  
  
Hermione spoke quietly. "So what if I do?"  
  
It was Ron's turn to speak. "Come with us, Hermione."  
  
She thought for a long while. "But, but...I have classes!"  
  
***  
  
The three began their road trip to Hogsmeade a short time later, despite Hermione's weak protests. "Couldn't we have taken floo powder or something?" Ron started moaning a mere hour into the ride. "It's getting late after all."  
  
"Stop whining," Draco said, at the wheel. "C'mon. Road trip!"  
  
"Locked in a car with you two for hours on end. I'm enjoying myself." Hermione leaned against the window.   
  
Ron was feeling around in his pockets. "Hermione? There's a little green bottle in the glove compartment. Hand it back here, please?"  
  
She dug around for it. Finding the bottle she studied it carefully. She unstopped it, smelled the liquid. "My god! What is this stuff?" She glanced back at him. Sweat beads were beginning to to form on his forehead. His eyes were bright as he looked at her.  
  
"You know."  
  
She gave it to him reluctantly. "I don't think I like you as much as I used to, Ron. I love you, you know. You're my best friend. But I'm not sure I like you."  
  
"It's okay. I don't like me much either."  
  
Draco frowned. "Don't get all mushy on me, you two. Ron, take your Drugs and get happy. I don't need to listen to this."  
  
"Shut up," Hermione snapped. "This is all your fault. Every bloody bit of it is your fault. How can you sleep at night?"  
  
"I don't."  
  
***  
  
It wasn't long before Ron was passed out in the back seat. Hermione watched Draco light a cigarette. "Why do you smoke?"  
  
He took a long drag. "Easiest way to commit suicide."  
  
"Oh." She looked down at her hands. "It's been the worst for you, huh?"  
  
"Driving a car is a lot harder than riding a broom."  
  
"There was subtext in that, wasn't there?" He nodded. She looked at him for a moment. "Well, you deserved it."  
  
"No argument there."   
  
She sat silent for a full five minutes. "You knew what was going to happen that night in the forest. You knew you were taking us to our deaths."   
  
"I was told, 'take Harry Potter to this place and time.' Sure, I knew what was going to happen, but no one told me." He paused. "I don't know why I hated Harry Potter. He supported Dumbledore, I supported the Dark Lord. That's how it worked. Even if I wanted to think any differently, I wasn't allowed."  
  
More silence followed. "If You Know Who was still in power, would you be a death eater?"  
  
He sighed, not wanting to talk anymore. "If he had never fallen, and I still had my powers, yes. I would be a Death Eater. Don't look at me like that. I'm being honest. You ask, I answer. But. If he were to come back right this second, no. I wouldn't, whether we got our powers back or not. I'm never going to admit to being a good person, but I would like to think that I'm not evil."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I think we're almost there."  
  
*****  
  
A/N: Spent way too much time on this, but I finally got it worked out. I know I promised Snape in this part, but he got shoved into the next. On the other hand, most of his part has already been written, so it won't take long to get the next chapter up.   
  
Shameless plug: While you're waiting for the next part, go read 'Stalker's Thoughts,' my newest. 


	6. six

Part six  
  
A short time later they found themselves traveling the same road that they traveled at the beginning and end of every school year.   
  
They arrived at Hogwarts. "This feels so strange," Hermione remarked as they entered the great hall.  
  
"I don't feel like I'm supposed to be here."  
  
"You *were* expelled, Draco," Ron replied. "I guess we should talk to someone first..." He looked around. It was just after dinner, so there were still a few students loitering about, basically ignoring them.  
  
Draco pulled aside two Slytherin girls, probably second or third years. "You two. Could you go fetch the Headmaster for me?"  
  
"Why? Who're you?" one of the girls, a blond, questioned.   
  
He sighed. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
Her little friend nearly dropped her books. "*The* Draco Malfoy? The one who--"   
  
"Yes," he cut her off.  
  
"Wow." The girl stood, transfixed on him. The blond crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Draco turned and looked at the other two. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, you're famous. Just think about why you're famous. Can we please speak to the headmaster?"  
  
The blond grabbed a hold of her friend's arm. "We'll go get her." She glanced at her friend, who was staring at Draco. She groaned. "Anything for Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Her?" Hermione muttered to Ron.   
  
He nodded. "You wouldn't know, would you? Dumbledore retired last year. McGonagall has taken over. It was all over the Daily Prophet. I was invited to the retirement dinner. I didn't go."  
  
A few moments later Professor McGonagall descended the stairs, smiling. "Ron, Hermione, how wonderful to see you. Mr. Malfoy." She nodded stiffly.   
  
Hermione smiled, though the boys did not. "Hello Professor."  
  
"Whatever are you doing here?"  
  
Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure I know..."  
  
"We need to speak to Professor Snape," Draco cut in.  
  
Ron nodded. "If at all possible. And as soon as possible."  
  
McGonagall frowned. "That can be arranged. I believe he is in his office. You can go on down. Will you be here long?"  
  
"Thanks," Draco said stiffly and started down the hall. Ron followed without a word. Hermione looked at her old professor and shrugged her shoulders sadly before following her companions.  
  
They found his office and knocked on the door. "Come in," came a muffled reply. Snape was sitting at his desk grading papers. He stood when he saw who had entered the room. He looked at Ron's bloodshot eyes and Draco's leather jacket, and how Hermione stood a few feet away from the boys as if she were fearful that mediocrity was catching. "I see what Hogwart's finest have turned into." He sat again, and gestured to some chairs. The three remained standing.   
  
Ron looked at his feet, but Draco and Hermione did not recoil from his biting remark. "I believe you, Mr. Malfoy, should be in Azkaban."  
  
Draco reddened in the face. "The charges were dropped two years ago."  
  
"And your downward spiral, Mr. Weasley, has managed to travel the gossip line even to Hogwarts." He turned to Hermione. "I haven't heard anything about you."  
  
"I'm at University, Professor," she said stiffly.   
  
He sighed. "At least one of you turned out okay."  
  
Draco crossed his arms. "Now that you're done belittling our pitiful existences. There is a reason we're here."  
  
"Do share, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco took a slow breath. "Please address me by my first name. Thank you. We came to ask you for information on a seer named Fenella."  
  
"Never heard of her." But his face said otherwise as he paled as he spoke.  
  
"Try again, Professor," Hermione said.  
  
"She had a vision of the Dark Lord's downfall. He was going to kill her. I convinced her to run."  
  
"There was a prophecy. About three squibs."  
  
"Three barren shall rise, bringing forth a new power."  
  
Ron nodded. "That's it. Do you know what it means?"  
  
Snape leaned back in his chair. "Seers are funny creatures. They like to be vague. The only one who can tell you what it means is Fenella herself. And she's not accepting visitors. Let sleeping dogs lie. Whatever it means, it can't be good."  
  
"We don't care. We need to know. We heard she could help us."  
  
"I know this woman. She is much too powerful to mess with, and none too friendly either. Go back to your worthless little lives and forget about the Wizarding world. Believe me, you will be better off without it."  
  
"How would you know?" Draco asked, none too kindly. "Have you ever tried living without magic? A day, a week? It's torture. I'm living proof that it's torture. Okay, maybe Weasley is. Its worse than dying, because only part of you is dead and you can feel that missing part, and nothing can fill it. Nothing. I wouldn't wish it on anybody." He paused. "Well, maybe my father."  
  
Ron and Hermione both stared at Draco in shock. Snape simply opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "You're not going to like this." He started writing. "Here is how you get to her home. Unfortunately, you can only get there by foot. I hope you don't die. Getting there, or her killing you." His voice still held a twinge of his old patronizing tones.  
  
He handed the scrap of paper to Ron. Ron blanched. "The-the forbidden forest?"  
  
*****  
  
The three all stood at the edge of the woods. "I don't want to go in there." Ron was fumbling with the tiny green bottle that he always kept in his pocket. Draco, likewise, had pulled out a pack of cigarettes and was searching for a lighter. "Maybe we should re-think this whole thing."  
  
Draco gave up finding the lighter and shoved the crumpled pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. "No. We're going to do this." He looked slightly sick to his stomach at the idea.   
  
Hermione sighed, realising that she would be taking charge of the expedition. "Okay you two." She wrenched the bottle of Drug from Ron's fist and chucked it as far as she could into the woods.   
  
"Hey! I need that!"   
  
"Not while I'm around." She then took a step over to Draco, reached into his jacket pocket, and handed him his lighter. "Okay. Are we ready to go now?"  
  
Ron scowled. "No."  
  
"Tough." Hermione started walking into the trees, and the other two hadn't much choice but to follow.   
  
The three walked in single file. "This isn't too bad," Ron said nervously after about half an hour. "Kinda,' y'know, peaceful and all."   
  
Draco stubbed his toe on a tree root and cursed before replying. "Until it gets dark." Ron turned to him, fear showing in his paling face. "We should have waited until morning. I'm not keen on running about in a place with werewolves, trolls, and who knows what else."  
  
"Can I have one of those fags?" Draco handed Ron the pack of cigarettes wordlessly.  
  
"Don't forget the Ford Anglia," Hermione said thoughtlessly.   
  
Ron froze. "Let's not talk about that."  
  
Hermione glanced back at her old friend. "You can't pretend he never existed, Ron."  
  
"Watch me."   
  
Draco saw the tension between the two, and decided the subject needed to be changed. Besides, if they kept on the subject they would without a doubt bring him up eventually. Hermione would probably hit him again. The idea was not appealing. "I wonder why she decided to hide in the middle of dangerous woods."  
  
"Because we're the only ones crazy enough to actually come in after her," Ron remarked, as keen as Draco was to get off the subject. "Or we're not, and the others have all ended up dead in the process."  
  
"That's a pleasant thought." Hermione looked at the directions and roughly sketched out map that Snape had given them. "We go...this way. I think." She started off in a direction on a path so indistinct it would go unnoticed to anyone but Hermione. "So what do you know about this woman anyway?"  
  
"Nothing," Ron replied.  
  
Draco agreed. "Absolutely nothing." Hermione stared at both of them. "I mean, we've pretty much reached the end of our rope haven't we? We're desperate. Especially Weasley here. Who cares, if we have a chance of getting our powers back?"  
  
"I could still go either way. I do just fine without it."  
  
"Then why are you out here risking your neck in the forest?"  
  
She shrugged. "Someone has to keep an eye on you two."  
  
"You don't give a shit about me."  
  
"Ron then."  
  
"Yeah. Weasley needs all the help he can get."  
  
"I heard that!" Ron called. He had begun to lag behind the other two. "Look guys, we need to stop." They turned to find him clutching a tree branch, trying to catch his breath. He looked a bit green around the gills. "I think...I'm going...to be sick."  
  
Draco glanced at Hermione. "Withdrawal. Shouldn't have thrown that stuff out. Either he's going to get very scary, or he's going to pass out. Probably both."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Why me? Okay. It's getting dark anyway. I wasn't planning on stopping-we're not exactly prepared, are we-but I certainly don't want to have to carry him along. Ron, we're stopping." She turned in time to see him running off into the trees. She started to follow.  
  
Draco grabbed her shoulder. "Don't. Let him throw up in peace. Give him that dignity. He doesn't have that many left." Hermione sighed and nodded in agreement. "Let's find a space to start a fire."  
  
She agreed and they found a small clearing a small bit away. As they cleared the forest floor down to bare earth Hermione glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky. "Give me your lighter."  
  
Draco complied. "Good luck." He added under his breath, "You'll need it."  
  
"Oh, shut up." She quickly gathered some twigs and sticks, and two minutes later she was in the process of building up a satisfying campfire. She glanced at Draco's shocked expressions. "Six years of Girl Guides."  
  
Draco sat down. "I am impressed."  
  
She almost smiled. "Thanks."  
  
They sat in a silence brought on by the short peace between the two. "I still think you're a bitch," Draco said finally.   
  
"I still want you in jail."   
  
He stood. "I'm going to track down Weasley. Make sure he hasn't coughed up anything vital."   
  
"Maybe I should go..."  
  
He shook his head. "I've seen him like this before. I don't want him to be embarrassed because of you. He wants you to think of him as what he was. Not what he's turned into."  
  
She let him go, and within fifteen minutes he had tracked down Ron, half conscious against a tree. "You alive?" he asked casually.  
  
"Somebody's taken a sledge hammer to my head. But I'm done throwing up, if that's what you mean."  
  
"Good. Granger is getting on my nerves. I really can't stand her." Draco pulled him unsteadily on his feet and they started walking.  
  
"Why? I mean, it's not as though you're all, 'die, muggles, die.'" He gave Draco a sideways glance. "What's she ever done to you?"  
  
"Her holier than thou attitude gets to me. Especially since she has every right to act so. She's got my number, even if you've buried all of that in the past."  
  
"Leave the past buried." Ron kicked a rock. "I don't want to deal with it."  
  
"You're going to have to sooner or later."  
  
"Whatever."   
  
Draco decided to change the subject. "Why didn't you and Granger ever get together?"  
  
Ron laughed, then clutched his head in pain. "I dunno." He winced. "Ow. Just never happened. But I don't do too bad, relationship wise."  
  
"Yeah. Moaning Myrtle."  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
Popped in on me during a shower a couple days ago. Nice girl, that one." He chuckled.  
  
"Very funny. Wait. In the shower?!"   
  
They had come back to Hermione's fire. She was standing still in the middle of the clearing. "Quiet," she hissed.  
  
"What?" Ron asked. Then he heard it too. The crunching of twigs and dead leaves. There was another. Footsteps, and not small ones either. They looked around nervously. "There's giant spiders out here, you know," Ron said nervously. "I think I'm going to throw up again."  
  
The timing of the sentence was perfect, because two very large green forest trolls took that moment to crash through the trees. The trolls stared at the invaders to their woods.  
  
"We've done trolls before," Hermione said evenly. "We can handle this." The invaders stared back at the trolls. "Run!"  
  
******  
  
A/N: No, I have not given up on this story. I finish what I start. (No matter how long it takes.) I should be able to get through one more part before I hit another writer's block. And see, that part where I leave you hanging means the next part should be coming up soon. 


End file.
